‘I Can’t Come Out. It Will Destroy My Mum’

‘I won’t tell her, ever. My sister ran off with a married man, and my brother dropped out of school. I’m the only one my mum still likes.’

‘I won’t tell her, ever. My sister ran off with a married man, and my brother dropped out of school. I’m the only one my mum still likes.’

This was my friend Orla’s mantra throughout college. She fancied girls but was afraid to admit it to her parents and friends, but mostly herself.

We sat up in her room, dissecting her conundrum into the small hours. We flat shared with Nicky- a bulimic, and most nights, her purging sounds called time on our frantic chatting. The walls were thin.

Orla wasn’t ready to tell her mum.

Ireland was not gay friendly then.

It was the mid-nineties in Ireland, and life was not easy for the LGBTQIA community. The government had only decriminalized homosexuality in 1993. Not being Irish, I had a hard time wrapping my head around her profound angst, but then I wasn’t in her situation.

Weeks of late-night conversations followed interspersed by drunken nights out. She was popular, attracting people with ease. But no one knew how hard she pretended to like boys. Her inner turmoil shaped dark circles under her eyes.

She couldn’t tell her mum.

In summer, she invited me to her family’s farm in the rolling Irish countryside. While I loved meeting her parents and hanging out in the sun, I noticed her getting angsty around her folks. She ignored simple questions, darting her eyes here and there while mumbling staccato answers. She didn’t tell her mum.

After our visit, I went home for a while, only to return for the next semester. We moved flat, minus Nicky. Something had shifted. The fledgling gay student society organized fortnightly disco nights, and Orla went with trepidation. Seeing other girls out caused her anxiety. She couldn’t reconcile a gay lifestyle with the path her mum had chosen for her. She wasn’t ready to tell her mum.

One night after the disco, I was in my room when I heard two voices excitedly asking questions you’d only ask someone who would impact your life in a big way. I knew she met her match and was happy for her. Orla and her Spanish girlfriend stuck together like glue, with friends assuming they were buddies. Orla looked radiant, but anxieties were still there if you knew where to look. She hadn’t told her mum.

Until one day, years later, I bumped into Orla’s mother. She told me about her daughter’s Spanish trip with her’ friend,’ accompanied by an enormous wink.

I’m not sure if Orla ever did come out to her parents, but I’m positive her mum was more worldly than she thought.

She didn’t need to come out; her mum had known all along.

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